


The Truth Untold

by mitsuki_yuriko



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dorks in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Conan Kudou Shinichi, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsuki_yuriko/pseuds/mitsuki_yuriko
Summary: “Do you want to kill me, Kudo-kun?”“Don’t even joke about something like that."Where Kuroba Kaito is a vampire, and Kudo Shinichi is confused. But yet, he wants.Oh, how he wants.
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 290





	The Truth Untold

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Shinichi has returned to his adult form, Kaito and Shinichi grew up together as childhood friends, and currently attend University together.
> 
> As always, enjoy the ramblings of my brain, and please leave a kudo or comment on your way out! :)

It happened at a Kid heist.

It was the usual song and dance. A calling card was delivered, Nakamori and his crew swarmed the museum to protect the century-old ruby red gem. Kid appeared in a burst of light, sent the team into a frenzy with his antics, left a few police officers hanging upside down dangling from the ceiling by their ankles, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. While the Inspector dashed off chasing the white figure that was disappearing into the crowd (a red herring, Inspector. Honestly, wouldn’t you have learned by now?), Shinichi turned on his heel and re-entered the museum.

Usually, he would point the Inspector in the right direction, assist with cutting off the thief’s paths, and keep the team hot on Kid’s heels. It made the chase all the more thrilling.

But Shinichi didn’t feel up to it today. He was a little peeved, to be honest. He was too busy being mad at Kaito to bother to entertain the man this evening.

 _To think that he planned a heist, and didn’t even tell me!_ He thought hotly, fuming as he set about climbing up the ten flights of stairs to the museum’s highest point.

Because for whatever reason, the Kid liked to dramatically gaze at the stolen gems under the full light of the moon, and rooftops were his favourite place to chitchat.

Shinichi was used to it.

What he _wasn’t_ used to though, was accidentally stumbling into one of the museum’s hidden storage rooms instead of the rooftop he anticipated.

What he _wasn’t_ used to, was the sight of the Kaitou Kid kneeling on the floor, cradling an unconscious man on his lap, fingers tangled in his hair, lips on the man’s neck.

At his quiet gasp the Kid jerked his head up, and the man on his lap gave a weak cry. And Shinichi’s brain froze.

What he _wasn’t_ used to, was the gentleman thief known as the Kaitou Kid, aka his best friend Kuroba Kaito, and his sharp white fangs dripping with blood.

…

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Kaito wiped the blood on his chin, smearing it across his cheek and jaw and staining his pristine white gloves.

“At some point, perhaps,” he admitted.

The man sprawled across the floor is still. Unconscious – not dead – because Shinichi had checked, again and again almost obsessively, while Kaito muttered protests under his breath about having some semblance of self-control.

Shinichi looked from the unconscious man on the floor, to the gently pulsating wound he really should be staunching, to the slowly growing puddle of blood, to Kaito, bathed in the soft moonlight shining in through the open window. Still dressed in his full Kid regalia, the red splatters were a stark contrast against the bright whites.

Shinichi’s brain was going into overdrive, theories discarded and written anew, clues linking and evidence connecting but it _doesn’t make sense how can this be and what he really wants to know is-_

“But how can you go to school if you’re a vampire?

There was a pause. Then Kaito blinked, taken aback by the question. The corner of his lips curled up in a humourless smile. “You stumble into what looks like a murder scene, confront your best friend and rival who you discover isn’t even _human_ , and that’s the first thing you ask?”

Shinichi shrugged. “I… thought vampires couldn’t be out in the light of day?”

“A common misconception,” Kaito replied flippantly. He crouched down to where the man was laying on the floor, analysing his handiwork. Seemingly dissatisfied, he grasped the man by the head, tilting slightly to reveal two puncture marks on the neck, which were still oozing blood sluggishly.

Shinichi’s heart leapt into his throat as Kaito leaned in, thinking he was going to continue with…. whatever he was doing before Shinichi walked in. But Kaito gave him a flat look, muttered something about stupid detective surprising him and ruining his focus, before merely lapped at the puncture site, sealing it with his saliva as a cat might lick their wounds. Before Shinichi’s very eyes, the marks began to shrink. Less than five seconds later, it had healed completely. The only thing that indicated the entire encounter was a few red droplets of red, staining the unconscious man’s shirt.

Shinichi let out a shaky sigh of relief.

Kaito slowly straightened and cocked his head to the side, meeting Shinichi’s gaze. “You took that surprisingly well. Most logic-minded individuals and rational reasoners do not accept it that easily.”

Shinichi shrugged helplessly. “I was forced to consume a drug that turned me into an elementary-schooler, my best friend can break walls with her bare hands, Kazuha Toyama can see ghosts and exorcise demons, Hattori Heiji disappears every full moon and my father writes fantasy murder mysteries based on visions he sees for a living. Unfortunately, not much can faze me now.”

“Well, if you put it like that…”

“So, my question? The sun doesn’t kill you?”

“Most vampires are nocturnal and cannot stand daylight, especially newly turned vampires still adjusting to their heightened senses. However, some strains of vampirism, and sporadic gene mutations, can make it possible. I just happened to get lucky.” Kaito elaborated. 

“Do you want to kill me, Kudo-kun?”

Shinichi’s entire body flinched. He felt like the entire world has been tilted on its axis, taking him off-kilter. The metallic scent of coppery blood was nothing new, having gotten used to the bloodshed at murder scenes after numerous encounters, but the notion that _Kaito had been the one to cause it_ was enough to make him feel nauseous.

“Don’t even joke about something like that,” he hissed. “And don’t call me that.”

Kaito ducked his head in apology. There was still blood all over his face, lips and hands. A brilliant, crimson red that was visible even in the dim light, and Shinichi couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even as his head spun with impossibilities and his stomach churned and his heart stuttered uncomfortably.

And Kaito just looked back at him, his infamous poker face masking all his emotions. He had discarded his monocle, and his violet eyes glowed eerily with a demonic aura, filled with a defiant glint and unexplainable curiosity. Shinichi was getting a headache from the mix of seeing Kid’s stone cold features with Kaito’s voice, and the stark red blood on such a familiar face he’d seen for decades was giving him whiplash.

“I’ve never killed anyone, Meitantei-kun,” Kaito confessed quietly. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Shinichi murmured. He believed that this was true because Kaito was still Kaito and he was a mischief maker and prankster but he would _never_ take a human life. (He needed to believe it because he doesn’t know what to think otherwise).

Kaito was still looking at him, eyes wide and searching, violet eyes bright and achingly familiar.

“I’ve never killed, and I’ll never touch you, Shinichi. I swear.” A note of urgency in his voice now.

Shinichi’s eyes flickered back down to the young man lying unconscious on the floor. He saw the narrow face, pale skin and unruly brown hair and the realisation hit him like a train at full speed.

Oh.

“ _Oh._ ”

Kaito’s lips thinned, but his expression was unreadable.

Shinichi’s gaze was still on his look-a-like on the floor. “Is he… Is he a fan?”

Kaito straightened up, immediately defensive. “No, no.” He took several steps closer, but at Shinichi’s poorly hidden flinch, thought better of it and stood still. “These are just random people. I would never take advantage of my fans like that. I wouldn’t.”

“I haven’t heard anything about unexplainable deaths secondary to blood loss.”

“I am mildly insulted that you think vampires always drain their prey. Not all vampires succumb to bloodlust.”

Shinichi pointedly looked down at the unconscious man, and Kaito had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’ve been busy recently, and haven’t had time to feed. I thought I’d be able to get through tonight, but there were more people than usual and the scent of human blood was too alluring...”

“How often do you need to…?” Eat? Drink? Hunt? The term “feed” that Kaito used so casually seemed almost dehumanising to use.

 _Although_ , Shinichi thought humourlessly, _he really isn’t human so does it even matter?_

“Once a month, approximately.”

Once a month. Twelve times a year. One hundred and twenty times this past decade. How many times had Kaito smiled and waved goodbye to him, gone out to… _feed_ in the evening, and returned the next day his usual cheerful self?

How many times had they spent hours together during the day, with blood fresh on Kaito’s hands?

How many Shinichi look-alikes had Kaito gone through?

Something twisted unpleasantly in Shinichi’s stomach.

Shinichi moistened his lips. “I don’t want… you to do that anymore,” he said, trying to sound neutral and failing spectacularly.

Kaito, despite the gravity of the situation, raised a single eyebrow and barked a laugh in disbelief. “Then I’ll die. I can eat normal foods and not starve, but it doesn’t sustain me. If I don’t feed then I _will_ die. Believe me,” his tone darkened. “I’ve tried.”

That was another blow to Shinichi’s gut.

Shinichi knew he’d made his mind up. He still felt like he’d stumbled into a fantasy novel of his father’s, wrapped up in mystery and magic and things he could not rationalise his way through. But he knew three things:

One. Kaito will die if he does not consume blood.

Two: Shinichi does not want Kaito hurting other people.

Three: He will not, _cannot_ afford to lose Kaito, even if he hasn’t yet sorted out whatever the hell his feelings for the man are.

“Take what you need from me,” Shinichi managed around a dry throat. It came out as a quiet rasp, and he coughed and tried again, marginally clearer.

The only indication that Kaito heard him was that he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

“You,” he said slowly, surely. “Don’t know what you’re offering.”

Shinichi shrugged. He felt like his brain has been hit with a sledgehammer, doused in oil and set on fire. Nothing much made sense anymore.

But he’d never been more certain of anything in his life. There was not a single doubt in his mind about what he wanted to do.

“Does it hurt?”

He slowly crossed the room, taking off his suit jacket and laying it on the back of the armchair. It was a gift from his mother, an expensive one, and there was no reason to ruin it with blood stains or give the dry cleaners any heart attacks. After a second of thought shed his tie and loosened his collar, letting it join his pile on the chair.

By the time Shinichi finally manages to tear his gaze from the suit jacket and the relative safety of its mundanity, he was almost paralysed by the look of both unadulterated desire and something else – something darker and wild, burning with a fervent urgent need – that made Shinichi’s heart beat frantically against his ribcage.

Shinichi watched as Kaito moves towards him with carful, deliberate steps, pupils blown wide and amethyst eyes glowing in the relative darkness until they’re standing face to face, inches apart. He raised a hand, shedding the stained gloves and placed it gently on Shinichi’s cheek, cupping his face and caressing his jawline. His palm cool on Shinichi’s flushed skin.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Kaito said, and his normally smooth voice was hoarse, scratched raw by desire, by longing, by _hunger._

Shinichi knew the feeling all too well.

He tilted his head up, openly, invitingly.

Voice barely a whisper.

“Show me.”


End file.
